


My Life, My Love

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: Lucy doesn't know why Wyatt's avoiding her, but she'll find herself admitting to more than she planned to get him to stay. Takes place in what would be Season 3.
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Kudos: 33





	My Life, My Love

She can see it, the trepidation with which he walks around the bunker. She isn’t blind to the mood that floats through their halls. It’s awkward, and she can’t quite pinpoint why. She’s inclined to think that perhaps it’s the fact that he still shoulders the guilt of what happened with Rufus, but then she sees them joke as they used to, and she wonders if maybe it’s just her. Perhaps she’s creating tension that’s not really there.

Rufus had been back a few weeks, acclimating back to a life buried underground, hunkered down with a team so close, they were family. But Wyatt had pulled away. She could feel it in the way he avoided her eyes, in the way he would quickly cover a smile when she spoke, leaving the room, shoulders sunk, and eyes clouded with an emotion she couldn’t quite make out.

There had been a period of time, although brief, where it had seemed they were growing closer.

_She could still feel his chest against her back as he showed her how to properly hold a gun._

_“Remember,” he all but whispered into her ear, every nerve ending on alert as his breath floated down the back of her neck. “You pull the trigger in between breaths.”_

_There’s a short gasp from her, as her finger slips, sending a shot prematurely at the target, causing her to jump in the air, his stunned face turning into an adorable grin, as she shrugged her shoulders, a blush creeping up on her cheeks._

_The combat training having proven to be something even more challenging, sweat dripping from every part of her, and he looking barely fatigued, as she sent punch after punch, blocked every single time, as if he could read her mind. He’d stop halfway through, positioning her feet into a stance he’d corrected more than once. His hands reaching out to her fist, lightly edging her thumb from habitually being tucked into the fist, laying it out on the outside across, as to not break the appendage._

_“Like that?” She’d asked, looking up to find him staring at her like he hadn’t heard her question at all. Her free hand coming up to self-consciously adjust the messy bun atop her head, pushing the sweat back, wetting her hair just a bit more._

_“Yeah,” he’d said, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, swallowing as if he’d suddenly become parched, and she was the fountain from which he wished to drink from._

_But she’d caught him off guard right after, sending a punch his way that actually made contact, a dazed look stunning him back into the moment as his hand shot to his jaw._

_“Shit, I’m sorry,” she’d panicked, stepping even closer to him, turning his face over in her hands to inspect the damage. Nothing but a bruise, and an impressed grin at the shot she’d gotten._

_That night, he’d ventured into her room, an ice pack gently set on her lap for her knuckles._

_“You did good today,” he’d complimented, a laugh making its way out of her as she adjusted the cold relief over her bruised hand, before reaching out with her fingers, pricked by the stubble of a beard just taking shape._

_“I got you pretty good,” she’d said, wincing for him, as her finger traced the line of his jaw._

_“I’ll live,” he’d said with an intensity reflected in his eyes, that she takes it more as a promise, one that they both knew the threat was all the more real after Rufus._

_“Hmm,” she hummed, leaning closer, her hand spanning across the expanse of his cheek, her thumb rubbing underneath his eye, sinking into the indent of a barely there dimple as he smiled. She hadn’t kissed him in so long, she was afraid it wouldn’t be the same, time and circumstance perhaps acting in a way that would have them faltering, a shift in the timeline that had tried to separate them._

_Her mouth was a breath away from his own, her eyes fluttered shut, his hand coming to rest on her neck, her hair still pulled up from their workout, a ghosting of his lips on her’s, interrupted by the appearance of Jiya._

“Hmph,” Lucy lets out a sigh at the thought, throwing her sheet to the side, but refusing to get up just yet, content to just to lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The white light streaming into her room, casting a dust to stir above her, warning of a disturbance.

Slowly crawling out of bed she sleepily wanders into the kitchen, her robe floating behind her as she enters what she thought would be an empty room.

“Oh,” she jumps with a smile. “I didn't…what are you doing…up?” She trails off, seeing a bag resting next to his feet.

He jams his hands into his pockets refusing to meet her eyes.

“Are you going somewhere?” She asks with a shake to her voice, a panic at the possibility of him taking off, more than she can process.

“I’m leaving,” he says matter of factly, but there’s a flicker of blue in her direction, and she knows he sees the immediate tears that flood her eyes, as she pulls her robe around her, shrouding herself in her feelings.

Lucy finds herself closing her eyes, a betrayal of tears trailing down her face, as she adjusts her stance, this time not into one ready to fight, but instead, opening herself up, a road block he can’t quite bypass.

“What are you talking about?” The disbelief that things had gotten this bad unfathomable to her.

“I’m heading to San Diego, I’ll see if I can get my job back,” he says, reaching down to pick up his bag.

“So that’s it?” She throws at him. “You’re just…leaving?”

“Lucy,” he takes a step towards her, but stops himself before he reaches her, dropping his hand, the instinct to protect her, still there, but he’s forcing himself to resist, and she’s not quite sure what had happened to get them here.

“Why?” His face falls at the question, hand running over his beard, a habit he’ll have to lose if he goes back.

“You’ll be fine, you don’t need me,” he self-deprecatingly offers, as he sidesteps her, his eyes clenching shut as he passes by, as if painfully reminded of what he’s leaving behind.

Lucy feels like she’s back at the Alamo all over again. But instead of a hopeless, broken man, she sees someone she knows feels more for her than anyone else, and yet is leaving, as if stepping aside, literally, for her sake.

“Wyatt,” she utters his name, shaking her head, anger bubbling up inside of her, tinted with an edge of anxiety that he might actually leave.

The siren blaring before she can get another word out, alerting the team that they had a job to do.

Lucy eyes him, waiting for his next move, either out the door or in the direction of another time and space.

xxxxx

Walking down the streets of New York, Lucy can feel the tension crackling between her and Wyatt. The trip in the Lifeboat proving to be just as awkward, only amplifying the mood until it threatened to bubble over, dissipating into steam.

_She’d settled into her seat, her mind distracted and vision blurred, as she looked down at the several straps waiting to be adjusted around her, securing her safety._

_However, the hesitancy wasn’t met with a pair of familiar hands, but instead that of Flynn, a heavy sigh, reaching to hurry the process along, attempting to make eye contact with her, but she’d refused, instead seeing only blue and the clench of Wyatt’s jaw at the interaction, a job that he’d long since taken as his own, but was apparently abandoning as well._

_“I’ve got it,” she says, and he surrendered finding his own seat, as she fiddles with it for a second before Wyatt reaches over and she hears the click, signifying they’d been successful and could leave._

_“Thanks,” she’d muttered, tears springing to her eyes again, feeling it might be the last time he did so, only intensified when met with silence._

The chaotic crowd circle around them, having split up to save time, Rufus slyly leaving the two of them together, as he and Flynn took off.

Wyatt accidentally bumps into a woman dressed in polka dots, a hat atop her head, and red lipstick, moving his hand to stroke a beard no longer there for the mission, a nervous habit he hadn’t yet let go of.

“Sorry, ma'am,” he sincerely apologizes, and Lucy can’t help but boil under the white uniform she donned. The woman making eyes at him, the grin she most often found shot her way, now peeking out at this stranger.

“Seriously?” She spouts, speeding up the sidewalk. The thought of Wyatt abandoning everything that was their’s, sending a chill down her spine, even in the humid heat of the day.

“Lucy, wait,” he says, grabbing his hat so it wouldn’t fly off, and chasing after her.

She whirls around on him faster than he was expecting, and his eyes grow wide at her now leaning towards him with a sparked ember in her brown eyes, coming after him.

“ _‘Ma'am’_ , really?” She picks the easiest fight she can, the frustration coming out in something petty, while continuing to smother the real reason she was so upset.

“I was just being polite,” he offers, and she knows, logically, he’s right. The man is in the military, southern, he can’t help it even if he tried, but it irritates her. That’s her term of endearment.

“Whatever,” she says, turning back around and stalking off, but he’s quick, and he’s soon in stride with her, ducking behind her every once in a while as people pass them by.

Random hoots and hollers ring out as the lights during the day shine even in the sunlight, reminding her of where they are, where they’ve always been, and she stops, and he nearly tackles her, not expecting her sudden halt.

“It never meant anything to you, did it?” Old insecurities dredged up from way back when, having been forced down into something rivaling sainthood, as she time after time let herself be passed over, searching for validation, only to find empty promises and letdowns.

“Lucy,” he breathes, as if he’d inhaled the truth, and spoke nothing but her name.

“Was it all a lie? Did you ever really love me?” She practically yells over the crowd.

“Yes,” he answers in earnest, like a reflex, something so ingrained in him that the idea of not loving her is foreign. But it’s followed by a sigh, as if the admittance was, not regretful, but painful.

“But not enough to stay,” and she says with a level of defeat, the response tasting bitter on her tongue. Somehow no one ever loved her enough to stay, least of all her family. She turns, stepping off the sidewalk onto the street, until she feels his hand against her sleeve.

“Why do you want me to stay?”

“It doesn’t matter, just go, leave,” she motions with her hand, but his gentle grip doesn’t drop.

“I heard you, you know. A few weeks ago. You were talking to Flynn,” she can feel him bristle at the mention of a man he has never trusted. “You said your life would be easier if I wasn’t there.”

Lucy remembers the conversation, she’d been sitting on the couch, mug of tea in hand, and Flynn had come to sit in the chair. Not unlike before, the journal had been brought up, the fate of the team something they all wondered about since the future versions of them had left, and Rufus had returned.

“That’s what this is about, are you kidding?” She asks, cocking her head to the side, a roll of her eyes.

But the look of hurt doesn’t leave him, and she knows that he’s serious.

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” He counters, his eyes squinting, searching her face for the truth.

“You’re right, my life would be easier if I had never met you.” And she knows he doesn’t have a problem hearing her, her voice shaking as it rises, the feelings bubbling up until they’re tumbling our of her mouth, and she can see the look of defeat on his face, like time was a stranger, and so was she. “But I don’t want you to go.”

He looks up, clean shaven, his mouth barely open, hope and victory heard around them, gathering them into its presence and demanding she take a leap.

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” she admits, no shock present, but a declaration so sincere that it takes him aback.

“Lucy, I…” He stutters out, his eyes so wide but settled with love reflecting back at her, as if his purpose had changed when he called her name.

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you’re eavesdropping, you should stay for the whole conversation,” she sarcastically shoots at him, before throwing her arms up, exasperated, as she stalks into the street, until she’s whirled around, sweeping her up in his arms, cradling her neck, a hand wrapping around her small waist, and his lips crashing down on her own.

The hollering of the crowd around them fading into nothing but background noise, as they kiss in the middle of the street. Her breath not stolen, but willingly given up for a chance at making this work. The past merging into the present, ensuring their future. His lips frantic with a want that left an ache in her chest, as they separated, to find a crowd had assembled to watch, several photographers surrounding them.

“Ma'am,” he addresses Lucy with a grin, before tipping his sailor’s hat, grabbing her hand, and taking off.

xxxxxx

“Looks like nothing too bad happened,” Jiya announces from the computer, as Wyatt and Lucy come strolling up behind them, goofy grins painted on both of their faces.

“Hey, I guess that kiss still happened too,” Rufus points to the photograph, one of a sailor and a nurse kissing in Time’s Square.

Lucy squints down at the image, her teeth coming to bite down on her lower lip at the realization that that was them, her and Wyatt. An awkward cough coming from Wyatt as she nudges him to look.

“Wait,” Rufus says, looking closer at the photo. “Oh my God, that was you two?”

“I guess history got it wrong, it wasn’t just strangers celebrating,” Jiya says with a smug look glancing up at them.

Lucy looks up at Wyatt, as he pulls her closer, her heart beating harder, a glimpse of their future having been given to them, as they stared back at their past. But as she looked up, she could see her life, her love reflected back in blue.

“Nope, definitely not strangers.”


End file.
